


to escape afterlife

by sanzv



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Greek Gods AU, Slow Burn :), This is completely self-serving, enemies to lovers mayhaps? idk we'll see, or maybe it'll be fast burn idk we'll see, villaneve as hades/persephone!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27991005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanzv/pseuds/sanzv
Summary: The Great Goddess Persephone. Not big enough of a deal that you want to win their favour, but big enough that you never really want to get stuck in a conversation with them. So, you freak these Gods and nymphs and immortal assholes out a bit more, give them a reason to not think you’re amiable, affable, approachable.Try to look hot, but in a way that they’re not used to.Let yourself look older, let your features shift away from these big Greek eyes and wavy brown hair. Act nothing like the Goddess of fucking Spring and Nature should act.orgreek gods au ft. Villanelle as Hades and Eve as Persephone
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	to escape afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> title from: Arms Tonite - Mother Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from: Cleopatra - The Lumineers

You are bored. Because when are you not.  
Talking to Bill is a great way to pass the time. He never runs out of gossip and that is mostly a good thing.  
“Do you remember that nymph with the, uh, the tits?”  
“Yeah, she was hot, right?”  
“Yeah. She was pretty hot.”  
“Vapid, though. Almost preachy. Too horny,” you say, disapprovingly, because disapproval is also a great way to pass time.  
“Yeah. She’s dead.”  
“Fuck,” you laugh. “Fucked up that I just said all this bad stuff about her.”  
Bill grins, “Yeah Eve, you’re such an asshole.”  
You smirk and think about the time that you spoke to this nymph, decades, aeons, who-even-cares ago. 

“Glaucia, yeah?”  
She’d gone all pink, choked down her drink, “Yes, Goddess Persephone. I hope you are enjoying yourself.”  
“Uh-huh, yeah, this is great, Glaucia.”  
“Please, call me Gemma. And, I just wanted to say, you look so beautiful tonight.”  
She’d awkwardly placed her sweaty palm on your arm. You’d pretended like it wasn’t weird. She’d pretended like someone was calling her across the room, so she could get away from you.  
And you can’t blame her, you do have a habit of acting all sulky at these Olympian parties. In fact, you take pride in it.  
The Great Goddess Persephone. Not big enough of a deal that you want to win their favour, but big enough that you never really want to get stuck in a conversation with them. So, you freak these Gods and nymphs and immortal assholes out a bit more, give them a reason to not think you’re amiable, affable, approachable.  
Try to look hot, but in a way that they’re not used to.  
Let yourself look older, let your features shift away from these big Greek eyes and wavy brown hair. Act nothing like the Goddess of fucking Spring and Nature should act. 

So, yeah, you remember Glaucia with the tits. Gemma.  
You feel sort of bad about the fact she’s dead. Bad in the same way that being pierced with an arrow is bad. Irritating and just unsettling to dwell on.  
Not bad enough to tell Bill though. He’d giggle.  
This is another reason you like speaking with him, actually. Hephaestus, the mighty God of Blacksmiths or whatever, giggles, and you’re the only one who knows. It’s a privilege you’re quite pleased to have. 

You almost kill a man on the way back to your mother’s house.  
He is young and beautiful and human, which makes him pretty much worthless. Like a fucked-up pet who speaks. He’s standing there when you get down on Earth and he’s still standing there when you summon your horse.  
And honestly, this is your mother’s fault, because she could have easily just built a beautiful house back up on Olympus but instead, you have to wade through miles of human life just to get home.  
And yes, you’re centuries old and you should have your own place by now, but it’s never been that big of an issue. Except for situations like this, when young and beautiful and human men smile at you while you’re getting up on your horse.  
“You look like you might need help with that,” he says, still smiling.  
Of course, you don’t respond. But as a treat, you let yourself imagine what it would feel like to bash his head in with a rock. Slick blood coating your hands and ten seconds of misery before he will never smile again. But you are more interested in getting home and anyway, you quite like the bloodless blue cotton of this dress. 

You’ve never been able to figure out which name suits your mother more.  
Demeter sounds graceful and wise and like the crinkle around the edges of eyes.  
But Carolyn. Carolyn sounds stern and English and like the solid pursing of lips. Your mother is both, sometimes she is neither, but she is never one without the other.  
When you get home, she’s being both. Setting down a bowl of rice and ignoring the fact that you haven’t come home for ages.  
After Carolyn’s told you that Zeus-is-coming-home-for-dinner, and don’t-embarrass-me and please-just-don’t-come-back-into-the-house-while-he’s-here, you head out to the orchard just behind your house. You read a book about human science and watch new flowers in the bush behind your house emerge and take the place of old ones that you’ve plucked and crushed.  
When it’s reasonable late and you see that the hearth has been lit, you head back in. 

You hear Carolyn’s low and calm voice, the lilt of her accent. You aren’t really paying attention to what she’s saying when you suddenly hear ‘Hephaestus’.  
And that’s strange in some way but you can’t really figure out why and honestly, you’re just way too tired to try and figure it out.  
So, you enter the house, watch Carolyn and Zeus jump in their chairs at your greeting. See the guilty way that Zeus tried to make eye contact with Carolyn. Listen to him say that he should go in his gruff voice and clunky accent. Watch her say, “Goodbye, dear Konstantin.” And when you’re about to sleep, you realise that it’s strange because you’ve never heard your mother mention Bill ever before. 

The next day, you head back to Olympus.  
And you should’ve known just by the deafening silence in Bill’s workshop that something is off. But you walk to the hall where the two of you met last night and he isn’t there. So, you visit the stream nearby where he sits sometimes, but it’s empty too. And you ask a few people in the corridors if they’ve seen him.  
And it’s only when you hear a jagged, painful scream cut through the air that you realise in a sort of detached way that this might have something to do with Bill. Your mind is whirring through a million different scenarios. You’re stumbling while you run and it almost makes you laugh when you think about what you would look like right now. The Great Goddess Persephone panting and crying as she rounds the corner into her closest friend’s room. The Great Goddess Persephone stifling a scream as she looks down upon the mangled golden legs of the Great God Hephaestus that look like they’ve been chewed up and spat out. 

You can’t remember how you got here. Back down to Earth.  
You remember shoving your mother into a wall in a corridor in Olympus. Inexplicably, this was one of the few days that she’d left home in recent times. You remember gasping out, “you did this. I heard you say his name last night.”  
She’d smiled, “I have simply no idea what you are speaking about, Eve.”  
So, you’d left. And now here you are. And when you let out a splintered yell, it feels like it will crack the entire universe open and swallow you whole.

\--- x ---

This is fucked up.  
“This is fucked up,” Villanelle tells Konstantin.  
He laughs that horrible, loud, bellowing laugh.  
“Okay, but you still have to finish it. I do not care if you think it is fucked up.”  
Villanelle looks back at the bowl of grapes.  
“You know I can’t even properly taste fruit, yes?”  
“No, I know that you think mortal food tastes like medicine, and you lost the bet. Eat the food, Hades.”  
“You know, when I said, I think we should hang out more, it did not entail eating medicinal fucking food.”  
He opens his mouth to disagree and the two of them speak together. Him serious, and her mocking.  
“But you lost the bet.”  
He narrows his eyes and the both of them start again.  
“Stop doing that, it is creepy.”  
Villanelle smiles as wide as she can, secretly cursing herself for ever betting him that she could pole vault across the Phlegethon River. So now, she has a bruised ego and medicinal aftertaste in her mouth. This is fucked up.

When Konstantin leaves, she changes into a sweater and shorts. Reading clothes. Once inside her study, she notes down all of the mindless gossip Konstantin deigned to spill this time.  
Usually, it doesn’t help her in any way but occasionally, he lets something slip that could connect to the organization she’s been tracking. They call themselves The Twelve and off late, she’s been noticing a lot of connections to Demeter, someone Konstantin speaks about pretty often. Which is why she’s been inviting him down more and more often nowadays.  
But he mentioned someone else this time. Persephone. The only creature apart from Konstantin that Demeter has a soft spot for, apparently.  
And detachedly, Villanelle realises that she really needs to speak to this Persephone.  
Oh, this is going to be fucked up. She is so excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is 100% self-serving, hope you liked it too though. they will meet in chapter 2 and that may or may not come next week, depends completely on how much I feel like procrastinating and not doing actual work (the odds are not in my favour).  
> come find me on twitter: @sverm2 :)


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